


The long year remembers you

by lbmisscharlie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:32:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3573206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lbmisscharlie/pseuds/lbmisscharlie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has a beard now, and more lines around his eyes, salt at his temples, but Charlie recognizes the kindness in his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The long year remembers you

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt. Title taken from Edna St. Vincent Millay's "Sonnet iii": 
> 
> But you were something more than young and sweet  
> And fair,—and the long year remembers you.

George has outdone himself, adding temporary extensions to the inside of the shop and filling the whole with floating dragon-glass chandeliers, spun gold garlands, and glass cases filled to the top with Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes’ most popular wares. People fill every floor, grabbing tasty bites off the golden trays that levitate through the crowds and downing fuzzy, bubbling drinks which leave the crowds giddy and pleased.

Charlie waves to Ron, who grins at him over Hermione’s shoulder as she wraps him in a proud hug. Up on the stage, George is leading the crowd in a round of applause and imploring them to “Keep drinking, and feel free to fill your baskets with our newest tricks and treats!” Almost a decade on, the air beside George still looks empty.

But tonight’s not a night for mourning. Charlie’s glad he was able to get here to celebrate Ron’s joining the company alongside their family and a few hundred of their closest friends, but the press of people is beginning to leave his skin itching and too warm. Ten months in Antarctica searching for the ever-elusive dwarf ice dragon with only a fellow crew of five for company has left him ill-used to the sound and heat and smell of so many humans in one place. 

He makes his way to the back of the room, smiling at those who catch his eye as he passes, and ducks out the back door. He won’t be missed for a few minutes. 

Loosening his tie, he tugs open the top fastenings of his formal robes and takes a few breaths. The night is cool, but the air so full of the smells of the city, made so unfamiliar from years and years spent mostly away. He thinks, now, that he’s spent more time away from Britain than there, a strange mathematical fact able to unsettle his notions of home. 

Next to him, the door creaks open. It takes Charlie a moment to recognize the man who steps out; they’ve only seen each other a handful of times at various Weasley-Potter-Granger family events over the years. He has a beard now, and more lines around his eyes, salt at his temples, but Charlie recognizes the kindness in his eyes.

He reaches to shake hands. Neville takes it, raising one eyebrow wryly. Charlie ducks his head, feeling exposed.

“No need to stand on ceremony, is there?” Neville asks, hint of amusement to his voice. Charlie’s glad to hear it; he’d felt a bit wretched for never sending an owl after the last time they saw each other. Slipping out in the wee hours of the morning to catch a train to Transylvania, dress robes in disarray, is no way to treat a guy after a very satisfying night. Not contacting him after is worse.

“’Spose not. It’s good to see you, Neville. Or Professor Longbottom, I suppose.” It’s Neville’s turn to duck his head. “How’s Hogwarts these days?” What he wants to ask is if Neville’s in the bachelor professor quarters or if he’s found someone to share a cottage, but he’s not sure he has the right.

Neville hums instead of answering. “How’s Antarctica these days?” he asks in response. Charlie laughs. Neville steps closer, hand teasing near Charlie’s wrist. “It _is_ good to see you,” he says. His eyes are on Charlie’s mouth, and Charlie feels a deep, swooping feeling in his stomach, unfelt in years. 

“Yeah?” he says, and lifts his hand to let Neville intertwine their fingers and pull them close together.


End file.
